Crossing blades

[Mala]

Instinctively Mala shied away as the ruffians's swords passed her by. Although she had no physical presence, the ghost still felt her muscles move on their own accord as she avoided the dangerous swings, her gaze darting between the young men who surrendered to their up-building rage with worrying speed. And before she even had time to blink, around her the world's order seemed to cease as darkness threatened to swallow the flickering flame who was her son's friend.
The woman who belonged to neither the realm of the living nor the one of the dead felt her own image waver as fear for the one in front of her cursed all through her veins, leaving her powerless when all she wished to do was to protect this one soul. Helplessly the Roman had to watch as two of the dunken men closed in on Maeve, seperating her from the young brunette and her companion with each step they took. And while the seconds passed by, Mala's trembling essence perceived more and more of what those around her carried within. It was as if the voices she had not noticed they had fallen silent now spoke up again, the rush of emotions coming from the readhead, but also merchants, children and women crashing upon her like a tidal wave. Staggering backwards the ghost stared at the scene for a moment, her breath caught in her lungs. Hardly did she feel the trace of magic that cut through the air unseen, and too late did she fight back the flood to realize that one of the thugs was close to achieve his aim.
It was the desert hawk's screech that tore her from a reverie she hadn't noticed she'd fallen into and which made her direct her pale blue eyes to where Maeve now stood. The bird of prey attacked the brute man furiously, his heart focused on this task. He risked his own life to safe another soul - a decision that was not unusual amongst the creatures of nature, and yet there was something special to what drove him. But Mala had no time to think further about it, the situation at hand changing rapidly as one more time the flame blazed and the Celt got rid of those who had charged on her. And as she ran to search the others, Mala's ghostly gaze lay on her, sending a silent prayer to the seas pleading for the well-being of those who walked on the paths of good.

[Kalani]

Kalani had not a moment to spare in wondering where her companions were or how they were doing against the onslaught of these drunken ruffians. She could only hope that each were holding their own just fine, though she could not help but worry for Maeve, considering how off-balance the Celt had seemed when they had met earlier. But there was not the time to check on the red-head's status, only enough time to check the position of each of the trio of thugs she had ended up cornered by. They were closing in again now, the haze of liquor in their veins overridden by a merciless fury that burned in their eyes. It was not a comfortable thing, being the target of such a gaze, especially not when there were three of them. And now that it seemed they had decided to work together, Kalani was beginning to harbour doubts that she could manage to get out of this alive. It had been so long since she had been in any remote sort of physical conflict...in the years since leaving home, it had seldom been necessary. Generally speaking, any of the less than desirable inhabitants of the city were usually taken care of by the city watch before they could become a serious problem and she had never had any real problems, neither here nor in Baghdad.

Luck, or whatever you preferred to call it, had apparently run out, however, as it certainly seemed there were no city guardsman hurrying to the scene quite yet. Even if they did, whose story would be believed? Would all of them end up imprisoned for this chaos, even though Maeve, Majid, and herself were innocent of wrongdoing and had only been trying to defend themselves? It felt as though her heart was beating a mile a minute and her mind was racing a thousand times faster than the speed of light. Even so, Kalani was not certain her reflexes were so fast as mind or heart, but she readied herself as two of the ruffians raised their blades, intent, it seemed, on dealing fatal blows. Raising her own blade diagonally to block, hearing again Cadfael's voice in her mind, correcting grip and stance, yet.... there was no impact. No heavy vibrations up her slender arm. Nothing but the crash of steel on steel, but not upon the sword she held. A black-clad form registered in the periphery of her vision, parrying the strikes of the two armed brutes and realization clicked in her mind.

Releasing an inaudible sigh, Kalani was both relieved in the knowledge that the fellow merchant seemed to be faring fine and also that she no longer needed to deal with the trio of drunkards on her own. A dark brow raised in sarcastic eloquence at the bellowed words of the brute whose nose she had twice broken. Such an expression was as though to say, 'Would he now...' Kalani was not familiar with who this Hakit fellow was, but she was not particularly concerned with such threats. What was more concerning was the here and now, and two armed thugs with a desire for bloodshed. And a third who was bending to draw a dagger from his boot. The brunette caught sight of the latter just as she was returning Majid's nearly imperceptible nod. No time for thought, just a knowledge that he could not be allowed to rearm himself; particularly not with a throwing weapon. Nimbly twisting just enough, side stepping to give a safe margin between herself and the sword-wielding ruffians, she struck out with the hilt of the sword she held as strongly as she possibly could at the head of the momentarily disarmed thug. Bent over as he briefly had been, he did not see the attack coming and he fell, out cold for the moment. Then she was rejoining her fellow merchant, hoping that the downed man would stay down for as long as it took this mess to clear up.

[Dermott]

Dermott looked at his sister, as he perceived her urgent need to put a quick end to an initially trivial dispute, which was starting to get out of hand. The Gods only knew where she was taking the force to stand up, and knowing her personality, she wasn’t going to give up on her tiredness until this mess would have been over. So, the only way to let her rest was to get rid of the drunkards.

While sensing those pressing emotions coming from her, she suddenly spoke on his mind:



“Are the others alright?”



He realized the side of the alley they were at the moment, hid the view from the buzz happening at its center, and the huge crowd who had gathered around them didn’t help on that matter. At that point Dermott, took flight instantly and in a wings' beat, he managed to perch on a long timber from where he could easily observe the whole pathway. It was the only remaining part of a once luxurious and furnished spice stand. The wooden planks of its stall were laying into pieces on the ground, together with its ripped curtain now covered with a colorful mix of pepper, cinnamon, ginger and many other rare and expensive powders.

The panoramic view in front of him was clear enough to see the extremities of the street where the two felons Maeve had knocked down minutes ago were mumbling on the ground semi-unconscious. At that point, he let her see with his own eyes , so that she could easily spot Caipra, safely pressed among a mass of curious citizens intent to watch the fight, which was taking place in the center of the alley, where the merchant woman and the man in black were still fighting.

[Maeve]

Maeve’s vision wavered as Dermott shared his sighting with her. In a flash, she saw the alley in all its length and width as if she were perched above it and for a moment she even felt as if her feet weren’t touching the ground anymore. It made her head tickle with lightheadedness but she ignored the feeling and earnestly surveyed the street through her brother’s eyes to locate her friends.

While a few panicked citizens were still scurrying away in fright, curious bystanders were bunching up together on the sides of the lane to watch the lively altercation. Maeve saw Caipra among them at the other end of the alley, well and safe but looking very worried. With her mind racing, she also caught sight of Kalani and the mysterious dark-robed man confronting the three other thugs steel against steel. They both seemed to be holding up fine but they could certainly use another pair of hands, not to mention that it was she, after all, who had gotten them involved in the fight to begin with.

Clutching her sword in her right hand and the wood pole in the other, Maeve shook the vision away. Clenching her jaw to suppress the vertigo sensation in her head, she cast a glance at the two burly muggers she had just knocked down to make sure they were still out. She was about to turn around and head back towards the center of the alley to lend aid to Kalani and her protective friend when someone grabbed her sword-arm forcefully. Her nerves twitched with a start.

A man began yelling at her over the street’s chaotic noises, making her ears buzz. Maeve blinked at him confusedly but with his blue turban, angry shouts and red face, the man’s identity quickly registered in her mind. It was the merchant whose stall Baldy had destroyed when she had punched him and he had already yelled at her minutes ago before all hell had broken loose in the alleyway. It seemed he had somehow found his way to her again through the frenzied bedlam, apparently fervently intent on getting his accusations across. Using foreign words she didn’t even understand, he was furiously yelling at her.

Head spinning, Maeve shouted back at him. “Yes! Yes! I know! I’m sorry for the inconveniences!”

The merchant, profoundly unaffected by her excuses, pointed a scolding finger at her face and continued to bark at her vehemently. His iron grip on her arm was hurting her.

However, his angry hollers momentarily phased out in Maeve’s ears as a man in a black uniform, with a spear and cone-shaped silvery helmet caught her eye. A guard. Emerging from a sideway lane and probably on patrol, his expression told her he had heard the big pandemonium and had now found its source after intently searching for it. Dumbfounded, his scrutinizing gaze studied the mess in the alleyway and when it settled on her and the angry merchant, Maeve saw a suspicious frown crease his brow when he noticed the sword in her right hand. Apparently drawing a quick conclusion, a grim expression cloaked his features and he strolled in their direction.

Maeve cursed under her breath. Guards would only add oil to the fire at this point, not to mention how pissed Ziad would be if he found her in the middle of a market brawl only moments after allowing her to leave with Caipra. Moreover, she feared that if the guard alerted his comrades the whole quarrel would turn into a blood bath.

“What’s going on, here?” The officer settled before them, eyes darting between Maeve and the merchant as he firmly held his spear with the tip upward and the other end resting on the ground. Although he was quite young, his voice bore the trace of stiff authority.

Seizing his chance, the blue-turbaned man tugged on her arm energetically and continued his serenade of accusations with new-found vigor, waving his free hand over the mess everywhere in the street. The guard listened to him attentively, his lips closed in a tight line as he cast wary glances her way. Maeve would have glared back at him had she not been battling against the infernal waves of dizziness searing through her. She could almost feel herself rocking with the hammering beats of her heart in her chest. Her mind was racing to figure out a way to get out of this.

As the merchant kept babbling out his frantic discontent, the guard narrowed his eyes and looked over her shoulder, seeming to pinpoint another pocket of trouble further down the alley where Kalani and co still were. After a few moments, he nodded resolutely to the fanatical merchant and seemed to come to a decision.

“It’s all right, sir,” the guard shifted next to her and gripped her left arm securely, sandwiching her between him and the merchant. “Ma-am, I’m going to have to-”

Maeve whacked him with the wood pole. With the clanking thud of his spear and helmet, the officer slumped to the ground. The accusative tirade of the merchant came to an abrupt halt as he looked down at the now unconscious figure of authority.

Blood pounding in her temples, Maeve turned to him with gritted teeth. “I said I was sorry. Now, let go of my arm or you’re next.”

The blue-turbaned merchant did as told instantly and blinked at her, shocked. He then resumed to shouting again, waving his arms hysterically in all directions as if he was being attacked by the devil himself. Maeve figured she should just clout him as well for the sake of everybody else in the street but restrained herself. Instead, she quickly checked if there were other guards nearby and when she found none, she turned to head back towards the center of the lane. The sooner she reunited with Kalani and the man in black on the same front the better.

However, she had made no more than five steps when a woman screamed. Wheeling on her heels, Maeve saw the ruffian she’d shoved into the staircase up on his feet already and although his eyes weren’t completely alert, he was charging at her with his sword drawn above his head. Maeve only had time to arch her back to avoid his deadly strike; his blade cut the air with a whoosh and missed her by an inch. Staggering back, she then raised the wood pole just in time to block his next series of swings. At least he was driving her back towards the center of the lane, but Maeve quickly realized it was to her disadvantage when she began stepping on razor-sharp shards of broken pottery. No matter where she stepped, she scratched and cut her bare feet.

Dizziness washed through her again, but this time with bigger force. Maeve swayed on her feet. The thug’s uncoordinated strikes were hurried and wild and she had trouble gauging where they would hit, but as he suddenly lunged forward to run her through, sheer adrenaline made her side-step, whirl around and use her momentum to swing the wood pole across his face. The blow sent him flying across the lane into a fisherman’s stand. People yelped and gasped at the crash, skittering back to distance themselves from the dangerous quarrel. On the brink of madness, Maeve tripped over a clutter of melons and kettles, and as she winced in pain as her heel dug into a pointy piece of pottery, her eyes suddenly locked with Baldy’s.

She froze.

Lying amidst the jumbles of a fabric stall, the broad leader of the thugs was just regaining consciousness, with dry blood on his chin where the split lip she had giving him had bled. It looked like he had taken quite a blow and Maeve could only assume it had been at the hand of the mysterious man in black.

Struggling to lift his massive body up from the debris, Baldy’s eyes were foggy and unfocused but when they anchored on her, a shot of recognition sparked through them with hot venom. “You!”

[Majid]

Majid’s eyes locked with Kalani’s as the young woman copied his small nod, her sky blue gaze telling him that she understood the message of this simple gesture. Returning his attention to the brutes who seemed surprised enough to hold back for a moment he didn’t notice the third one bend down to draw a knife. It was only when Kalani suddenly left his side, moving swiftly to where the ruffian prepared for a strike he was so sure to make, that Majid became aware of the imminent danger. But before the other man even had the chance to look up, the hilt of his own sword met harshly with his head and sent him back down to lie motionless on the dusty ground. Momentarily his comrades’ disbelieving glares shifted to lie on the merchant woman, their target newly set.

Her companion drew in an audible breath of air as he realized that unintentionally Kalani had just drawn their attackers’ focus back on herself, her actions making her the men’s preferred prey again. While the merchant himself had only done as much as keep them from harming her, she had hurt two of the men. Twice. And although Majid certainly esteemed her for keeping them at bay, he couldn’t help the tense frown that settled on his face. With their rage rising, the two remaining men became more dangerous, their will to defeat the brunette and him making their moves be unpredictable and fierce. Even more so as their companion was still someone to be reckoned with, his current unconsciousness possibly not being of a lasting kind and the sharp knife still glistening in the early morning sun. If Kalani and he wanted to get out of there well and safe they would have to be fast, and considerate of each other.

Out of the corner of his dark eyes, Majid watched the young woman as she took stance next to him again. The sword she held firmly in her hand still erect and ready to be used while her focus obviously went back to lie on the remaining attackers.
The two men ground their teeth audibly as they stared right back at her, their gazes only occasionally shifting to lie on him as well. For a second it seemed that their tired minds broke through the veil of their earlier drinking and actually processed that what was happening but the recognition was gone before any conscious thought could surface, and without any warning the young man in front of Majid released an angry growl, shifted his weight and forced his blade to race forward.
His instincts kicking in, the tall merchant quickly turned to his right and led his own scimitar to block the blow. He was now seperated from Kalani and the second brute, a position he was aware he would have to leave as soon as possible and thus he spun around, quickly getting behind the thug now.
His sword disconnected from the other’s and as he guided it past him he turned it swiftly so that the one thing that hit the drunkard’s back was its handle. The young man stumbled forward, a curse leaving his lips as the dull pain ran all along his spine while he fought hard not to fall. Eventually, he was able to steady himself - leaning against the wall for support and straightening back up slowly he shot an enraged glare his opponent’s way, the alcohol in his system kindling his fury.

Tightening his jaw, Majid glanced to his left where the second thug was still facing Kalani. A look of confusion and annoyance was written over this man’s face and it seemed to the merchant that just for a second he appeared unsure of what to do. Finding out that the brunette in fact knew to defend herself, and that she was not alone in this battle obviously unsettled him. But before Majid could even do as much as hope that at least he would give up the fight, he suddenly came to life again, his blade rising as he prepared to advance the young woman regardless of the tribesman who was close by.
“Let her be.”
Majid hissed these words through gritted teeth, his voice dropping dangerously low again. His dark eyes transfixed on the brute as the same one tilted his head slightly, seemingly surprised by the underlying threat.
The young man’s mouth parted a little, as if to voice a reply, but before anything could be said his features suddenly shifted to show an offended frown. For a moment Majid just held the man's gaze, concentrating on him and what he might do while at the same time he tried to not lose track of the other thug either who though still fighting against the pain the merchant had just inflicted could join his friend at any time. Muscles tensed and his whole body on alert, Majid tried to focus on everything at once but when finally the mugger next to him spoke up his whole attention centred on the one who obviously had just come to a desicion.

"You think you can scare me, don't you?”, the aggressor snarled and there was just the faintest trace of incredulity in his words, before suddenly he turned to Kalani again, intent it seemed on proving the merchant all wrong. Majid had mere seconds to react and he moved quickly while in the same instant the villain threw himself forward, pressing a strained "I'll show you!" out of his throat and forcing Majid to let his scimitar meet with the other man’s sword in a clash of metal.
The merchant’s eyes narrowed as the blades rattled. Slowly but surely his patience was running low. These men kept fuelling a foolish fight, their actions endangering him and Kalani more than he liked to admit. Yet, he was limited in what he could do. Their attacker’s drunken state forbade any serious approaches from his side, and while he knew he could set an end to this he was determined to not take a life when those who risked it all so willingly could not be accounted for thinking straight. And thus, exhaling sharply, he swiftly guided his weapon downwards, pushing the other’s blade away before he stepped to the side, seeking to let his adversary join his unconscious friend on the ground.

[Kalani]

Kalani hardly registered the ire of the thugs at her prompt action of knocking their comrade senseless. She was far more aware of the location of their weapons and what they were doing, rather than what their minds were doing at present. Nor did the slender young merchant woman yet realize that her practical attack upon the knife-armed and now-unconscious ruffian had drawn the focus of the downed man's comrades upon herself. All she knew was that the man pulling a knife had been a threat that was not needed in the midst of an already chaotic fight. Odds were already not exactly in their favour - though doing better than before, thankfully - and someone able to throw a knife could potentially have been disastrous. Kalani would most likely feel guilty later for what was most decidedly an unladylike and unfair attack, but for now there was no time for such a thing, not even for a moment. All that she could do was keep thought to the here and now, ever vigilant for the attacks of the thugs. They were holding back at the moment, but Kalani was certain that such would not last for very long.

At least she was not in this alone. Kalani had stepped into this chaotic mess for the sake of a friend - Maeve - and in turn, her own newly-acquainted companion had also stepped in. The odds still were not ideal, but with three friends working together, it was certainly better than if Maeve had been forced to deal with this mess on her own. They were still somewhat scattered, true, and the young merchantwoman was not entirely certain where Maeve was. She had hope that they would all three be able to join forces soon, though. After all, if she and Majid had managed to meet up again after getting separated in the fight, to present a unified front against these thugs they faced, then it could not be impossible to reunite with Maeve in this skirmish. Just a matter of time and maneuvering in the direction the Celtic sorceress might most likely be in. It was not easy, unfortunately, trying to deduct where the red-head's location was while facing off against maddened ruffians. They seemed angrier now than before, though if she thought about it, she supposed that by knocking the one man unconscious and breaking the nose of the other twice, she had not exactly endeared herself to the enemy.

Ironic really, because it had been their less than endearing behavior that had started this mess in the first place. Obviously they did not much care about that, however, judging from the way they glared balefully at her. Kalani kept a firm grasp on the hilt of her sword, ready to use it the moment the thugs once more moved in to attack. It seemed that they were most focused upon her, the dark-clad merchant standing at her side meriting only the occasional glance. She would have thought that he would be the one they would focus on, seeing as he seemed quite skilled with the curved scimitar he wielded. But then, when ones mind is clouded by alcohol, as was quite evidently the case with these men, thought process in general was most often lacking. Then again, considering how much she had... endeared herself to them, maybe their intense focus on her had to do with that, rather than threat level. Or perhaps it was for the very reason that she was less of a threat than her fellow merchant. Whatever, the case, the angry growl of one of the drunken brutes had her tensing instantly, though Majid was quickly turning to deal with the ruffian.

That left the second still facing the slender merchantwoman. Paying only enough heed to what was happening with her companion and the other villain, most of her focus was upon the man before her. He was, it seemed, somewhat confused by the situation, judging by the expression to cross his face and the brunette was glad enough of the reprieve, short and tense though it might be. But that second of reprieve lasted no more than a second, for it seemed that whatever confusion and uncertainty he was feeling was swallowed by the more predominant annoyance and anger. The raising of the ruffian's blade was a warning of imminent threat and Kalani held herself ready, the sword she had seized only moments ago from the foe she had knocked unconscious gripped firmly in her hands and held upright at an angle in preparation to block or parry. She could feel her pulse beginning to race and tried to ignore it, reminding herself that she had gotten this far in the conflict and that she was not facing this alone. A fact that was reinforced by the warning uttered by her ally to the enemy facing her in a tone that held an underlying threat not to be ignored. Though hoping that he would see sense, it seemed that the aggressive drunkard was not about to be turned away by words or even a show of force as had been given already thus far.

This fact was reinforced by the snarled words of the thug, who seemed quite insistent on continuing in violence rather than common sense. Once more, to her relief, that speeding blade was halted in it's path by Majid's scimitar, the screech of steel on steel grating harshly on the air. With the other merchant having the ruffian in hand, Kalani let her sapphire gaze sweep the area to check for Maeve's whereabouts, as well as the remaining drunkards who had started this mess. The man she had felled moments before was beginning to twitch fitfully. Kalani was not surprised that he would not be long unconscious, for the strength of her blow had hardly been enough to truly be anything that would keep a man out for very long. But so far he was still down and she took that opportunity to seize the knife blade, deciding that it was better to have it entirely out of the equation. Her fingers had barely closed around the hilt of the dagger, however, when a strong grip closed over her wrist. Startled as she was, the brunette still managed to maintain her grip on the knife and the sword she held in the other hand. It seemed her calculations had been a bit off, seeing as the man was coming around after all. Uncertainty flickered in her blue gaze, however, unsure how to handle this unexpected situation.

[Majid]

While the young man in front of him groaned with frustration as Majid lead their swords to rush sidewards, the merchant quickly moved to the other one’s left, lifting his arm and preparing to strike the ruffian in a similar manner in which he had already dealt with the gang’s leader. But it was in the second in which he let his scimitar rise that his senses had him back up, his instincts guiding his body before his consciousness had time to process that what was happening. Majid barely managed to take a step away from his opponent when in the next moment the silvery blade of the second thug rushed past him, the quiet cry of cut air accompanying the man’s movement. While he ducked from the attack, the merchant saw the traces of dried blood which lingered at the other one’s face and clothes, and he became aware of the grim expression with which that one wielded his sword. The determination that lay beyond the blurry haze of his drunken mind did not go unnoticed by the tribesman and for the first time now he began to understand that it was not only anger which drove these men, but rather a kind of false pride, too.
They had been put in their place by two women, had been hurt by them whereas they themselves had not been able to get anywhere near accomplishing what they had thought to be such easy task. Six men, all armoured, were so far from reaching what they had set out to do and now here three of them were, desperately trying to win a pointless fight that they so wrongly had started.

For only a heartbeat Majid’s eyes narrowed as these thoughts rushed through his head, his mind urging him to focus on their actions rather than what drove them. His gaze flitting over the scenery he took the two men in; measured the distance that separated him from them and tried to ascertain which move they were likely to make next.
Before the lad who had approached Kalani earlier could carry out his strike, the tall young man already swung his weapon to block the coming blow - something that was accompanied by his right feet rising to kick his attacker and send him stumbling backwards. Then shifting his weight slightly Majid turned on his heels, thereby changing his position so that he faced the nasally impaired ruffian. Again the dull scream of metal on metal rang through the alley as their swords met and while they held their weapons erect, their gazes met in a silent combat of their own. Their blades were locked above their heads; their deadly forces for once entangled to not let either of them go.

Majid felt his heart beat hard in his chest, his features tense as he tried to push the man away and get at range to deal a blow that might send the thug to remain unconscious for a while.
Yet before he could figure such move out his eyes suddenly widened.
Behind his adversary, just a few feet away he saw Kalani move towards the man on the ground, her fingers reaching for the dagger that lay next to him idly. Unable to leave his position he had to witness how she did not even get the chance to pick it up as a firm hand wrapped itself around her wrist, the fuzzy attention of its owner quickly centering on the young woman who obviously had not anticipated him to come around again so soon.
The sword she held in her other hand still, but Majid could see the uncertainty which suddenly seemed to radiate all from her and for a second he doubted she’d put the weapon to use.

He had gotten to know Kalani mere hours before, had offered to help her because she was a friend of Asim’s. When she so selflessly had chosen to take stance next to the redheaded stranger he had followed her, knowing that the two women alone would have stood little to no chance against the six men closing in on them. He had hoped that his presence would have been enough to avoid this skirmish, but the three of them had not been as lucky. The odds had not been in their favour right from the start, and no one had seemed interested in helping them either. Not even the city guard was to be seen – something that, had Majid not been caught in between the two muggers, the merchant would have wondered about. Instead he was forced to fight with men who obviously knew no reason, their skills good enough to trouble him.
Still Majid was determined to get out of this battle safe and sound. He had not entered it to allow any of the three of them to get hurt, and he certainly would not let this drunkard threaten the young merchantwoman.
Laying as much force as he could into his move, he pushed against his opponent’s blade, forcing the other man to step back slightly. Aware of the second one approaching him from behind, Majid quickly jumped to the side and guiding his scimitar to his right his gaze came to fall on what he knew was Kalani’s chance to get away.
A wound, fresh as it seemed and either inflicted by the brunette herself or caused by the numerous shards of broken pottery that lay scattered across the ground.
Raising his voice above the noise of the alley, he called at the young woman, his dark eyes shifting to lie on the cut: “Kalani, his arm!”

Majid didn’t know if she would understand what he wanted her to realize but he hoped she would. Most people were not able to maintain the grip on something when such fresh wound was strained. All she needed to do was step on it or use the handle of the sword she held, even just press it and she would be free.
Majid’s brows furrowed as he felt a sharp breath enter his lungs. As much as he wanted to help his fellow merchant, in that very moment he could do nothing more for her. Spinning around his gaze left her as his focus returned to the ones who were so intent now on seeing his own shape lie either motionless beneath their feet or disappear in the mists of the streets lining this place.

[Kalani]

Any well trained warrior would know that uncertainty in the midst of battle, even for the slightest fraction of a second, could be dangerous... even fatal. Kalani was no trained warrior. The extent of her experience with weaponry of any sort was playful sparring with her foster brother when they had been young and the use of a bow in hunting once in a while. She had determination on her side, true, but though that had served her well thus far in this conflict, how long before her endurance would run out? How long could she, one so inexperienced in conflict of this type, last? Grim questions and ones that she only allowed in the periphery of her mind. Most of her focus was spent in grappling with the question of how to get herself out of this sudden and unexpected situation. The grip on her wrist was currently moderate, though even in noting that fact it tightened marginally even as the thug in question came closer to being fully conscious. And still the young merchant was not certain how to free herself without giving him the opportunity to do serious damage to her in the process. She could use her sword, but if he saw her raise it to deal another blow to his head, he might attack her before she could bring it down. Kalani was not certain she would be able to move fast enough in such a situation.

The grip upon her wrist tightened fractionally once more, a silent measurement of how close the ruffian on the ground was getting to full consciousness. Too much longer and he would be fully conscious. And what then? It was certain that if that moment came, she would not be in a good position. She was well aware that she needed to act and to do so quickly, but the trouble was that she did not have any idea what to do. Lacking the experience, she was out of ideas. And that was not a pleasant position to be in at all. Of that fact, there was no doubt. And then, above the cacophony of the alleyway, came the call of the fellow merchant who had been of such assistance this day - first in offering help to find the Nomad and secondly in so readily entering this fracas, despite not knowing Maeve and only having briefly been acquainted with Kalani.

Majid's words would have been easily acted upon by an experienced fighter. Such a one would know exactly what he was conveying and would probably have noticed the fresh wound upon the thug's arm already, and have used it to their advantage. Kalani was, as already noted, not an experienced warrior. Barely trained, for that matter, for one could hardly consider the sparring with her brother true training - even if, especially in the beginning, she had won such sparring sessions often enough. This skirmish was a far cry from playfully sparring with her brother, however. He had never had any intent to actually harm her, whereas these men certainly would not hesitate to inflict painful, or even fatal, harm. Especially considering the ways in which she had inflicted damage upon their pride. Wishing she had the experience that she knew her companions likely had - she knew that Maeve had been in a fair number of fights, for she had heard the stories the crew of the Nomad had to tell of their numerous adventures and it seemed quite obvious that Majid knew well what he was doing in wielding the scimitar he carried - sapphire eyes scanned the arm attached to the hand that gripped her wrist at the moment.

There. Along the forearm of the thug was a slim red line that she vaguely recalled inflicting upon him with a shard of pottery around about the same time she had deprived him of his weapon. But she was not the only one aware of that injury and neither was she the only one to have heard Majid's call. Even in those seconds while Kalani grappled with what course of action to take, the ruffian was fighting for full consciousness. The race ended in a heartbeat. The young merchantwoman was aware of a unexpected, painful tightening of the grip to her wrist and then an abrupt, excruciating twist that had raw pain burning along nerve endings like a sudden wildfire. The dagger clattered to the ground, fingers no longer obeying the command to maintain hold. Releasing an involuntary gasp, fiercely biting back a cry that would have followed, indecision was forgotten as she struck out blindly with the sword that she still held. While missing the brute's head completely as he rolled away - having released his grip when he saw that sword speeding towards him and still a bit sluggish from barely having regained consciousness - he'd have a badly bruised shoulder when the morrow came.

[Majid]

As the alley swallowed the restless murmur of bystanders whispering and discussing what they saw, Majid's eyes settled on the two young men who approached him. Both had proven to be good enough fighters, even in their drunken state, and their determination to restore the pride they believed had been so essentially hurt made them be opponents that were better not underestimated.

The merchant knew well that under different circumstances he would still have been confident to succeed in this skirmish, however the situation at hand was in no way what he was used to.
All the times that he had been in battle before he had fought alongside others like him, people who knew their share about defending themselves. Even when he had been working for the caravans those who had travelled with them were experienced enough to use a weapon to their advantage.
Kalani however seemed little trained although she had done remarkably well thus far. She had managed to avoid her attackers’ blows and had even put them in their place as could be guessed by the bloody nose of the one whose glare lay on the tribesman that moment, and by the cut the only half-conscious lad on the ground sported. Still, and what he had last seen of her reminded him to not forget about that, she was just a young woman who most likely had never been involved in any physical combat before. She was no warrior. She was a merchant and having seen her hesitate he knew that his best chance of making sure she would be alright was to get her away from those thugs.
The sooner the better.
Thus he drew a deep breath, willing his mind to focus on what his senses told him.
The two young men’s silvery blades were raised at different angles, both advancing him quickly. Quickly enough to use their speed against them. Feeling his features harden, Majid kept his stance, his scimitar lingered mid-air in front of him. Guiding it diagonally so that he could block the blow that was to come, the tribesman concentrated more on the men themselves rather than their weapons. And just when the first swung his sword, attempting to strike, Majid used the momentum of that move to force both their blades to race heavenwards while swiftly he grabbed for the thug’s shirt with his free hand.
Yanking it harshly his adversary quickly lost his balance, enabling the dark-clad merchant to pull him a bit towards the ground where his stomach met harshly with Majid’s knee.
The young man let out a pained gasp as a dull ache spread from his abdomen to curse all through his veins, but before he even had the chance to escape his opponent’s firm grasp he felt how his feet moved on their own accord. Struggling hard not to fall, the thug tried to keep up with the movement he was forced to make by the merchant.

Accompanied by the violent screech of sword clashing, Majid whirled around, not loosening the grip he had on the other man who at the moment was at his mercy. For a second the tall tribesman registered how the second thug’s eyes widened before the body of his friend slammed into his own, sending both to stumble backwards and crash into the stone walls that had made Kalani’s retreat impossible earlier on.

With both men moaning and cursing under their breaths, Majid released a ragged breath of his own. He knew those two wouldn’t stay there forever, and thus he turned back to where he hoped Kalani had already freed herself from the grasp that had held her down moments before.
His dark brown gaze caught her just when she struck out with the sword she had nicked, something about her movement - though effective as it was for it had the thug wail as the metal met with his shoulder - telling him that this was no planned move but rather reflex.
Had he had a second to contemplate just what might have caused such reaction from her side he might have noticed how her body stiffened in response to the pain her attacker had inflicted upon her, but feeling how the seconds raced by for once he was oblivious to such detail. Instead his focus lay on the young man who just rolled to his side, the dagger and Kalani forgotten for the moment as his shoulder screamed out in pain to him.

He knew this was their chance.

Taking the few steps that separated him from the fellow merchant in a run, Majid joined the young woman, his eyes still on the thug on the ground.
“We should go”, he spoke and it was easy to hear there was a certain tension in his voice. One last time he cast a glance towards the two men he had sent hurtling towards the walls before his gaze came to lie on his companion.
“Find your friend and then get out of here.”

Just when the last word had left his lips, behind the two of them the ruffian grunted audibly, his legs shifting to support his body as he tried to get back up. In response, Majid’s own back straightened, his scimitar rising in order to protect should any assault follow the other man’s efforts.
Not losing any more time then he let his left hand find the way to the small of Kalani’s back, adding an ever so slight pressure to his touch – a gesture that was meant to make sure she would be in front of him rather than behind where the three thugs could close in on her at any moment - before he urged:

“Now!”

[Maeve]

Frozen on the spot, Maeve stared at Baldy as he picked himself up from the cluttered mess on the ground. She could hear the distant clashes of steel to her right, probably coming from the battle in which Kalani and the man in black were engaged, but she couldn’t bring herself to look in their direction. Hey eyes were riveted on the mountain of a man rising before her like a volcano threatening to explode.

With fury shining in his icy grey eyes, Baldy picked up his sword lying on the ground and stood a couple of feet in front of her, furious and huge. He towered over her with a raptor-gaze and Maeve could see the veins in his wrist flex as he clutched the hilt of his razor-sharp weapon in a death grip. He had the neck of a bull, and the sleeveless black shirt he wore made the muscles in his arms bulge out like rocks.

Staring at his massive stature with her heart hammering in her chest and her head spinning like a whirligig, Maeve swallowed hard. Never in her life had she seen a man as strongly built as Baldy was. In other circumstances, maybe, just maybe, she might have been able to take him down, but in her current state he would shred her to pieces before she could even blink. Dear spirits, if he so much as got one hand around her neck, he would crush her windpipes.

Maeve didn’t know what to do. The colossal man before her was mad beyond reason and she was the source of his wrath. She was scared out of her wits of what he would do to her. Her instincts told her to run. Her eyes flicked to the sides. But where? There were so many things muddled on the ground everywhere that she would surely trip, fall and break her neck before Baldy could even snatch her, not to mention that the consuming dizziness in her head was already enough of a problem that could send her down at any moment; there was no need to multiply the risks by attempting a futile escape. Besides, she couldn’t leave Kalani and the dark-robed man alone against all the thugs. She was the reason they were in this mess. If only she could get to them…But Baldy was blocking the way.

Gripping her sword and the wood pole more firmly in her hands as she gathered her courage and took her fighting stance, Maeve, though with much less intensity, returned Baldy his glare. Every nerve in her body twitched with fear and dread.

Baldy licked his split lip and sent her a dark look. “Time to teach you a lesson, wench.”

Before Maeve could even blink, he charged at her.

The power of his first strike was mind-blowing. Maeve managed to counter it at the last second with her sword but the impact was so strong it felt as if the muscles in her wrist tore. She staggered back but in a flash, Baldy swung his blade again without giving her a chance to regain her balance, his strikes cascading down on her like rain. She struggled to keep up but she was no match to him. He was too fast, too strong. A good head taller than her, he was like a tornado of strength and anger, unleashing his rage on her without mercy or fair play.

The wood pole was knocked out of her hand before she even knew it. With barely enough time to adjust, Maeve clutched her sword in both hands as firmly as she could, the only weapon she had left. She was on the verge of panic. His next series of assaults came as powerful as the first. Her muscles were on fire. The impact of steel against steel drummed deep into the core of her bones and resonated in her wrists, arms, shoulders and neck. Outside, Maeve was wincing in pain. Inside, her whole body was screaming in agony.

As their blades danced before her eyes in a fuzzy blur, she realized Baldy was driving her back against a wall between two booths, cornering her. Shards of pottery scratched her feet as she stepped on them. She wouldn’t make it. Everything was spinning around her. Terror seized her. Baldy knocked the sword out of her hands and back-handed her across the face. The impact of the blow sent Maeve colliding face-front with the wall behind her. White hot pain exploded in her cheek. Her ears buzzed. She tasted blood. The inside of her cheek had probably cut open on her teeth. Dots of light danced before her eyes. The fact that she was still standing was beyond her comprehension.

Baldy came up behind her. Enraged, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back. Powerless, Maeve felt the sharp tip of a dagger press under her chin.

“Gotcha,” Baldy said victoriously, his voice gruff and coarse. Amidst the dizziness crashing on her and the pain burning in her cheek, Maeve felt his breath on her face as he leaned in and brought his lips close to her ear. “Now,” he whispered. “How about that kiss?”

Dimly remembering the moment when Baldy had told he would forgive her arrogance towards he and his friends if she gave him a kiss, Maeve felt sick. Had she been in a better state she would have spat something back at him but right now, with the fierce, constricting sensation of vertigo raging through her, she couldn’t. She couldn’t even think straight anymore. Reason had left her. Blind fear was her only reality. Hot adrenaline and survival instincts were the only things driving her forward.

Wincing against the death grip he had on her hair, Maeve balled her left hand into a fist and covered it with her right hand. With all the force she could muster, she rammed her elbow in Baldy’s stomach. At the unexpected impact, the wind left his lungs and he doubled over with a curse. His dagger fell on the ground with a clank and his fierce clutch on her hair loosened. Free at last, Maeve thought her head was about to explode, as if her skull was cracking open. Wincing, she touched a hand to her cheek to check if the bone was broken. It wasn’t, but it throbbed as if she had been hit by an iron bar.

Growling with venom as he struggled to get air back into his system, Baldy collected his bearings much quicker than she thought he would. With a yell of anger, he straightened up and lunged his blade at her with a mighty swing. Taken by surprise, Maeve ducked down just in time to avoid being beheaded. Landing on her knees with a cringe, she caught sight of his dagger lying amidst the chaos of fruits and spices on the ground. Fingers curling around the hilt, she wheeled around and in a flash, before Baldy could gather enough momentum to attack again, she slashed. The sharp blade cut into the flesh of his upper arm, drawing blood. Groaning in pain, he covered the wound with his hand.

Back on her feet and breathing hard, Maeve didn’t lose a second this time. She punched him in the face with the hilt of the dagger, but as her strength was slowly slipping away and as his bones were as solid as rocks, Baldy barely even flinched. His immediate reaction was to shoot her a furious look. Indeed, the simple fact that she dared punch him in the face again made his anger reach new heights, but Maeve couldn’t care less as he brandished his sword in response to her affront. She kicked it out of his hand and punched him again, this time hard enough to make him stagger back. Her knuckles stung from the blow.

A tidal wave of dizziness then crashed on her again, making her sway on her feet. Pressing her back against the wall for support, she held her head in her hands to suppress the pain. The vertigo was so strong now that for a moment she couldn’t tell up from down. Everything was a blur. She tried to blink her vision back into place and as she glanced up in the main alley’s direction, she saw the two burly thugs she had previously fought rush past. They were running to the right, towards Kalani and the man in black. Her friends would be outnumbered five to two. She had to help them.

Gritting her teeth against the dizziness, Maeve dashed for the street but before she had made two steps, Baldy grabbed her wrist in an iron grip and roughly yanked her back. Seeing double, she tried to hit him with her free hand but he seized that one too and pushed her back against the wall. Maeve suppressed a groan as her body slammed in the hard surface, the dagger slipping from her grasp. Baldy pinned her hands to the sides of her head and looked her straight in the eye with blazing fury.

“I’m going to make you regret ever crossing my path,” he said menacingly, his icy eyes piercing her inside out.

Panicked, Maeve brought her knee up in his groin before he could do anything. Grunting in pain as he bended at the waist, he released her hands. Maeve quickly dodged away from his colossal mass, but instead of aiming for the street where he would snatch her again she squeezed herself behind the counter of the stall to her left. She had only one vital strategy now: to keep him at bay at all cost because if he hit her again she would be a goner. Her cheekbone had survived a blow without breaking but she doubted it could resist another one, and as much as she wanted nothing more than to give Baldy what he deserved, she knew she couldn’t take him out on her own, not in her current condition. Her mind and her body were both beginning to have trouble keeping up with the adrenaline rushing in her veins. She felt so weak and so powerless it was overwhelming.

Despite the narrowness of the passageway, Baldy picked up his sword and dove in right after her. As Maeve struggled to weave her way through the throng of merchants and citizens hiding in the constricted path between the stalls and the buildings where they thought they were safe from the brawl taking place on the street, her eyes darted everywhere to find something she could use as a weapon. Afraid to look behind her, she could hear Baldy crashing through the booths and shoving people out of his way. He was closing in on her.

As she ducked under a pole of colorful scarves, Maeve suddenly cursed herself. She had gone left instead of right. Kalani and the man in black were up the main road to the right. She was going in the wrong direction.

[Kalani]

As much as she was a stranger to skirmishes such as this, Kalani was equally a stranger to the kind of pain that now burned like wildfire along pain receptors. It was not that she had never felt pain of any sort before; a bit more rough and tumble as a child, she'd had her fair share of bruises and scraped knees from various escapades with her brother. But nothing ever experienced before in her life had prepared her for the kind of pain inflicted by her opponent at this moment. She hardly even registered that she had struck out at him or succeeded in hitting when he rolled away. All she knew for sure in that moment was that her wrist hurt. Abominably. And she was not possessed of the kind of experience wherein she would have been able to decipher whether the thug had broken her wrist or merely sprained it merely by the feel of the pain. She just knew it hurt and that was the extent of it at the present time. Chasing close on the heels of this acknowledgment of pain beyond anything experienced before was anxiety. Barely keeping up with the pace of this fight beforehand, how was she to keep up now?

No. This was not going to help. With as much resolve as she could muster, Kalani slammed the door on the doubts that threatened to crowd into her mind. Maybe she was inexperienced... very likely even quite vulnerable in this situation. And yes, her wrist pained her with the kind of ache she had nothing to compare it to, which could not help her situation. But she was still alive. By some miracle, she was even still armed, the sword she had earlier taken from her latest opponent gripped in her uninjured hand. Most important of all, she was not alone. Majid was steps away, dealing with a couple of the thugs and somewhere just out of sight was Maeve, for whom the young merchantwoman had first entered the fray for, despite the odds stacked unevenly from the beginning. Not a one of them had to deal with this all alone, each had the knowledge of friends nearby to depend on. If only Maeve were closer... but soon, hopefully, they could regroup and deal with this situation as a united front, instead of scattered across the street.

Sky-blue eyes rivetted on the ruffian rolling on the ground at the pain inflicted on his shoulder by her reactive strike at him, it took Kalani an instant to register Majid's presence, at least until he spoke. The undercurrent of tension was clear in his voice as he spoke and she gave a vague nod. It would be a good idea to go, though they could not leave without Maeve. She would not leave this chaotic mess without Maeve safely with them. That was the whole purpose for being in this mess in the first place and failure was not an option that she was willing to consider even for a second. Lifting her gaze from her opponent, Kalani focused fully on her fellow merchant as he continued to speak. At least he was in agreement with her unspoken thoughts, that they needed to find Maeve before they made their retreat. An audible grunt from behind caused the brunette to startle, enough to send another sharp stabbing pain through her wrist. The hand gripping her sword tightened a little, both in reaction to the pain and in response to the threat presented by the thug beginning to make an effort to rise once more.

Readying for further conflict, shifting the arm attached to her injured wrist so that it was held closer to her and hopefully avoiding the possibility of being jostled, Kalani's efforts of preparation were precluded by slight pressure to the small of her back. Following that was the firm urging of her companion. Hesitation gripped the brunette. Was he expecting her to leave him behind? Majid was obviously more experienced in combat than she and quite accomplished with the scimitar he wielded, yet Kalani refused to even countenance the idea of retreating by herself and leaving her friend to deal with this mess alone. Had she not sought him out earlier for aid in locating the Nomad, he never would have been in this situation in the first place and therefore she felt a sense of responsibility. Abandoning any of her friends was not going to happen. They were going to get out of this together and that was all there was to it. Then again, even if retreat had been a feasible option in her mind, the possibility was quite abruptly thwarted by the arrival of two of the ruffians she knew had previously been further up the alley where Maeve had been.

Anxiety filled her at the sight of them, wondering what that meant for her red-headed friend. Was the Celtic sorceress hot on their heels in pursuit? Though a faint hope she held of such, remembering the state Maeve had been did not leave much expectation of such being reality. And her sapphire gaze was swift to note that there was no sign of the Celt. Besides, these men were quite evidently not running away, but with a specific goal in mind. Towards herself and Majid. Stacking the odds higher, soon to have them outnumbered five to one, provided the man she'd struck on the shoulder got his feet under him and the other two gathered their wits. She had a brief instant to wonder where Maeve was, before the burly men were too close to allow any thought but what was focused on the here and now. Holding the blade of her sword in a defensive position, injured wrist held as much out of the way of further abuse, Kalani readied to face the foe.

[Majid]

His ears picking up every sound, his skin feeling the soft morning breeze, his eyes taking in every detail they could Majid stood still next to Kalani.
His gaze had long left her to settle on the ruffian who was now getting back onto his knees, the other man's face contorted with pain as it spread from his injured shoulder like a wave. The ache the thug felt was written with distinct clarity in his features, yet it had not let him falter and his mind clearing up from his previous unconsciousness he became aware of his surroundings and the two merchants who still lingered amidst their attackers, becoming easy prey again if they did not leave.

The tribesman felt how every muscle in his body tensed, his fingers flexing slightly against Kalani's back. All his senses were on alert, focused on those who could close in on them so easily; too intent almost on watching them who threatened him and the young woman to notice the hesitation that befell the brunette.
Had he known she thought him to send her away he would have let her know immediately that such thought would not even cross his mind. He had been lucky to spot her earlier, to get to her in time to block the blows she would have received otherwise. Sending her away now would have meant putting her in danger again, and that was a risk he would not have been willing to take.
Although he didn't know if he would really be able to protect her all throughout this skirmish which he was aware was far from being over, it was obvious her chances of getting out of this safely were by far better with him by her side. All the more if finally they would get to leave this place behind and reunite with the merchantwoman’s friend.

But Kalani did not move.

Majid felt the frown cover his face before he actually knew what caused it. Automatically his dark eyes left the man on the ground, travelling to where his fingers still rested against the soft fabric of her clothes. While his gaze passed her back, their tips detached from the silk just the tiniest bit, his upbringing resurfacing in this unconscious motion as he broke the physical contact to a woman he hardly knew. Hovering in the air now his hand stretched as Majid’s attention lay with this that was important.
While his sight travelled her slender frame, intent on finding her face and the answer as to why she stood still next to him, only out of the corners of his eyes he noticed how she kept her right arm strangely close to her body, the sword she had been able to make hers earlier resting in her left hand now. With all that was happening around it took him a moment to register that something about what he saw was wrong. That something about it just was not right.

Kalani had held the blade with her right hand before. He had seen her brace herself for fighting, had watched her rise the metal to defend herself and was so sure to have seen a right-handed woman then. But if his memory did not fail him, then there was only one reason as to why she had changed the sword’s position now. A reason that was betrayed by how her delicate body was tensed; her eyes not able to conceal the pain that cursed all through her system.
It was by the time that his own gaze streaked her sky-blue one that a fleeting thought invaded his mind, its impact having him clench his teeth without him demanding them to. But before the understanding of that Kalani was hurt could fully reach his consciousness his attention was captured by something that was even more evident in her features than the underlying pain.

Staring straight ahead Kalani saw what Majid had yet to realize and while the tribesman felt time move at the speed of sound his sight finally met those who advanced them from further down the lane.

It was the two men who had taken on the redheaded woman before.

Their eyes widening as obviously they were searching for something, or maybe rather someone they did not find, they quickly ran into his and Kalani's direction, the distance too small already to escape them even if the two merchants wanted to.
For the shortest fragment of a second Majid wondered what this would have to mean, whether their arrival told of the other woman’s lucky escape or rather her doom. He hoped the surprise that hushed across their faces as they became aware of whom they were getting closer to indicated the latter, but lacking the time to ponder about this any further he pushed such questions aside. There would be an opportunity to search for his companion’s friend but for now their task lay with the ruffians.
Getting past the short moment of confusion when instead of the tall barefooted woman they saw the two merchants who were as foreign to these lands as the Celt herself, the men seemed to make a decision.
Seeing their comrades just steadying their stance they obviously attributed the wounds dealt out to the stranger clad in black rather than to the graceful merchantwoman for their angry glares set on his tall frame instead of hers.
Under the furious looks the newcomers gave him, Majid’s back straightened. He felt his heart beat fast in his chest again, his mind surveying the situation at hand while automatically he took a step forwards so that he would stand right next to Kalani now.
His dark eyes scanned his every surrounding, took notes of the swords the newcomers carried and when from behind him he heard the other three come closer he turned just a little bit.

It didn’t need an experienced warrior to understand that they were surrounded now, no way to escape, no way to flee. It was five against two and somewhere in the back of his mind Majid knew that his companion would not be able to hold up long against the others if they were allowed to unleash their anger on her. And so he braced himself for what was to come.
His eyes narrowing he shifted slightly, preparing to deal with those who would attack first. While all throughout this skirmish he had held back, had tried to inflict as little harm as possible, he now did not consider such handling an option anymore. If they wanted to fight then they should get their wish granted.

His left hand finding the way to his scimitar’s handle as well, steadying the blade and increasing the force he could put into a move, he let his every muscle tense. His deep voice spoke with a whisper when then he sent Kalani a message for her to bear in mind.

“Whatever happens," the words left his lips quietly while opposite to him their adversaries were locked in a silent conversation that needed nothing to be said aloud, "stay behind me!”

As the blades reflected the now bright morning sun what he spoke filtered through the street's noise, reaching his companion just in time before the five shared an enraged nod - setting an end to the deceptive calm of the moment as Majid knew they would soon proceed to strike.

[Sinbad]

It was probably a mix of his own experience and a certain "nose" to tell when there were quarrels in the streets that him and his crew all too often got involved in without wanting to and Dermott´s almost desperate shrieks that had urged the captain to follow on the street towards the market place near its centre. He was doing so in a jog, hand already near his sword hit, because the commotion could be heard from afar and he could tell from another two or three people walking away from the very place they were heading to, that there was something going on and they were trying to get out of the way.

His senses (or Dermott´s - who knew that so exactly anyways, maybe it was both), had not led him wrong. When they arrived at the place and he took in the scenery, Sinbad faced pretty much a chaos. The market traders and first customers had retreated into the side streets or at least away from the centre of the place, curious and frightened or both, leaving space for a small group of people in the middle: a number of roughly-hewn, brutish looking mostly middle aged men who looked every bit the scoundrels they probably were , circling in on a man and a woman in clothing that fit the fashion of this area but seemed just a tad out of the ordinary. All of the present people were armed in one way or the other, the man in the centre of the square had a look on his face that would have scared most away already, but the ruffians, apparently feeling secure in their numbers alone, closed in on them nonetheless and he could see anger on their faces. Probably, what he was seeing was the beginning showdoan on a longer fight because he could see bruises and blood on some of them.

"This has been going on long enough," he heard someone say, a sinister growl that spoke of fury and bloodthirst. "We´ll be done with you and that other wench, too."

He had heard enough. As was far too often the case, Sinbad did not always give it enough time to think. Maybe those two assaulted were pickpockets cornered by a kind of militia and their getting involved in the fight would cause trouble, but he was sure he was not the only one daring to take the risk. With a short glance to his approaching crew, he unsheathed his skimmitar.

"How about leveling out the numbers a bit?" he called out to the group of brutes.

(okay, I hope I got all the details right and it was okay to advance them like that. i assumed the others had just followed them. If that´s not okay, let me know )

[Mala]

Fast. She was running fast, her spirit following the young soul who had just returned from a world so far away from this one.

The redhead was racing up the street, back to those who could grant her support. Despite her injuries and the aftermath of her journey through a border that should never have been crossed she kept on fighting, not only for herself but those who came to her aid as well.

Sea blue eyes focused on the Celt, Mala could feel all the confusion that this situation had caused within the young woman emanate from Maeve like a wave. It was as if a thousand thoughts and emotions were passing her by at once, and yet the only sound that she heard was the frantic rhythm of the other one's heart.
Her senses all set on the sorceress, the spirit blanked all the other voices out, refused to hear the overwhelming clap of thunder that was those who stood nearby. In the back of her mind the curiosity, the fear and worry of those who did but watch the fight that had errupted in the street were mere whispers - silenced by the swaying aura of the one she so wished to protect.

With horror poisoning her very essence the ghost was forced to watch how Maeve froze in midst her stride, recognizing the man who just emerged from a broken market stall before her. The leader of the gang was desoriented for just a moment, his mind fogged with a pain that had been inflicted at the hand of the stranger who remained a mystery to Mala yet - his soul surrounded by an ancient trace that lingered in his deeds and which echoed silently here where he had fought for those he believed were worth it.
But the stranger was gone and Maeve was alone with him who now spat words like venom.

Involuntarily Mala flinched as the brute launched forward, attacking the Celt with fury and hatred. For a moment the spirit just stared at his wild eyes as time seemed to slow down for her. Never in her living days had she had to witness such anger, never had she had to see an innocent woman be assaulted for nothing more than standing her ground against a man who knew no manners. And she wondered if the world had always been like this. Had she just not seen the dark in poeple's hearts? Had her parents and her husband protected her too well against the evil that corrupted the souls of some men, or had times indeed changed and the world grown darker?
She had felt an evil trace deep down in the seas as she had awakened once more and she had stirred the devil that had escaped the prison she had sent him to. Was this what came of it? But she could not feel any magic at work here, could not sense the foul spirit of the Lord of the Flies, nor was there that faint and unknown darkness she had found within the depths.
No, what she faced here was but the weakness of some men.

Mala frowned deeply as she realized that the one who fougth the Celt so determinedly was simply convinced that it was his right to roam lands as he did - aggressive and with his own set of morals. He didn't care about anyone but himself and she shivered as he rushed past her, chasing the redhead back down the street and thus away from those the young one had sought to reunite with.
Instantly, the ghost moved to follow him, trying not to think of the futility of what she did for it would not help Maeve if the spirit despaired. The redhead was already so close to giving in to the exhaustion that seemed to wash over her body like the tides themselves and Mala knew that what kept the other one going was sheer willpower and the onrush of adrenile in her blood. And she didn't know just for how much longer this would be enough.

In her head, frantically, Mala tried to think about anything that could be done. Anything that could safe the young woman from the blind rage of this fool, but the only thing that could help her now was an honest heart that stood up for those in need. A heart that her children both possessed.
A heart she felt beating in her own chest, thrumming with the wish to protect.
A heart that was not her own.

Mala's essence stopped dead in its tracks as suddenly her body tensed. She could sense them, could feel them approach. They were here. They had come to help.

Her sons.

[Kalani]

Perhaps Kalani should have realized what Majid was truly attempting to communicate in encouraging departure; that of seeking out Maeve and getting out of this mess as soon as possible. But the young merchantwoman's mind was a welter of turmoil and confusion, and thus she had mistaken his meaning to think that he was trying to convince her to retreat on her own, leaving her friends behind to fend for themselves. Something that, no matter her own condition, was not something she would ever be willing to do. So she had balked. An unfortunate mistake, though that was a fact she was as yet unaware of, too busy trying to ignore the pain that throbbed from her aching wrist and focusing on the thugs that were moving in their direction, apparently searching for something. She was also trying not to think about what their presence might mean for the Celtic sorceress, noting that the brutish bald man was not with his compatriots. Was the latter a good sign or bad? Oh, she hoped it was a good sign, though considering the way this fight was going, she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that it was more than likely a bad sign.

Unfortunately, there was little time to spend worrying about whether Maeve was fine or not, seeing as the two new ruffians seem to have spotted their injured compatriots, along with herself and Majid. She stiffened her stance a little as fierce gazes were shot in their direction, though it was with a tiny hint of guilty relief that Kalani noted it was not she who had their focus this time. Evidently they were ascribing the injuries inflicted upon their comrades by her companion, rather than herself. Nor would she be lying to say that she was glad the black-clad merchant was standing alongside her, the unspoken support a reassurance for the blue-eyed lass who felt rather like she was in way over her head. Especially when it was, for the moment, just the two of them pitted against five angry thugs. And what good was she? Kalani was not under any illusions about how vulnerable she likely was, especially now that her dominant hand had been disabled. This skirmish had been difficult to start with and now... well, now she was worried she might become a liability that would make things more difficult for Majid.

Sapphire gaze took grim note of the positions of all five men opposing them, realizing that they were essentially surrounded. Had her moment of hesitation, of misinterpretation been the cause? Kalani pushed the thought away; now was not the time for such thoughts. Later perhaps, but not now. Slim fingers wrapped tighter about the leather-bound hilt of the sword she held in her left hand, but her gaze had moved to Majid at his words. They were quiet, but firm and she nodded, shifting her position to stand back to back. It would not be long now; inexperienced she might be, that sense of an impending calamity, like a storm about to break, filled her veins with the pulse of adrenaline. For the moment, she was able to forget about the miserable throbbing of her wrist, to focus all thought, every sense, upon the enraged figures closing in. Angling the sword now in her left hand at a defensive angle, desperately wishing she'd had the wits to have both practiced more and to have had at least some experience left-handed, the slim merchantwoman tensed at the baleful snarl of words uttered by one of the thugs that closed in. Some distant, possibly near-hysterical part of the young brunette felt an inopportune desire to laugh, seeing as one would think by that brute's words she and Majid were the cause of this altercation, rather than these villainous men who had first accosted Maeve.

The barbaric louts were getting closer, she could see the blind fury in the eyes of one of the men nearest her position at Majid's back and her jaw tightened, steeling herself for the clash that was sure to come in mere heartbeats. Focused ahead of her, rather than behind at a familiar group of sailors approaching, Kalani was a bit startled to hear a voice she recognized easily. She very nearly did laugh then, though whether it was out of relief to have allies arrive on the scene or the thought of how Maeve might react she did not know. Regardless, there was no time at all to dwell on abstract thought. Not with an enraged villain bearing down on her, leaving little time but to raise the blade she held just a little higher to block a fierce swing at her slim frame.